Puzzlement
by Ciella
Summary: Sally deliberates on the intentions and qualities of two men that she loves and that love her. T for mentions of violence.


_Dedicated to Sweet Valentine Vampire, a loyal reviewer that seems to love a good challenge as much as I do. Here's to you!_

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Call me old-fashioned, but I have a favor from both of the boys that have been attempting to woo me. It was an idea my mother implanted years ago. It all started with the story of a princess and ended in a knight in shining armor.

Every night, I might go so far as to say it began when I was an infant, she would come into my room. She would stroke my strong-bodied chestnut hair and hum softly to calm my wriggling form. Her voice was not a deep or melodious voice. Her stories were not spectacular or original. But she was my mother, and she was telling these stories for me.

I remember vaguely asking her why the good princesses were always pretty and the evil stepmothers so ugly. It was a silly fear, perhaps, but at three, four, or five years old, I felt I would become a failure as a princess if I was not beautiful; how would the handsome prince ever know how to find me? She would chuckle and dismiss my questions, so I turned to Julayla.

My mentor held me by the hand and brought me through the village. Though it was not polite to point, she told me, she was going to break her own rule for one day. She pointed to old Mrs. Hobbins, a wonderfully sweet old widow raccoon with advanced cataracts. I was dreadfully afraid of her staring eyes, but her calm smile and sugar cookies had warmed my heart.

She pointed to Mr. Edwards, a young doctor that arrived long before Quack. His one shoulder was higher than the other, and he had a severe limp from uneven legs. He delivered myself and my brother both, and might I say he was the most generous with his time and devotion.

She pointed to Suzie May, a teenage giraffe with huge hooves, discolored spots, and horribly crooked teeth. Suzie was Rosie's helper; any child in the village could run to her in a time of trouble.

"You see, Sally," Julayla crooned as we returned, hand-in-hand, "Fairy tales are just simple versions of real life. If you try to take them verbatim-"

"Verbatim?"

"-word-for-word, of course they won't match up. But if you take them with a grain of salt, you'll find a kernel of truth in them. Not all good people are attractive, but all good people have beautiful souls."

Was it only my childhood that made her lesson so simple? Even today, as I relive that day in my dreams, I marvel at the skill with which she took a stumping truth and chopped it up into kiddy bite-sized pieces. I realize now that I'm still learning the art of reading fairy tales.

It appears that I have two knights… rather, a knight and a captain. I can't leave them alone in a room together for more than thirty seconds or a fight breaks out. Both of them have pursued me at length, but neither have made their intentions clear.

Yes, Sonic, I am aware that you can kick Geoffrey until you knock all the wind out of him.

Yes, Geoffrey, I am aware that you can batter Sonic's head in until his brains come pouring out his nose.

But what does this tell me? I realize that they are possessive men both, that they are defending what they see as their right to my undivided love. But the fact is that my heart has been sectioned off into pieces of eight; I love my family; I love my people; I love my kingdom; I love this great forest and the bounty of nature that sustains us; I love my friends; I love my privileges as a princess; I love my childhood friend in Sonic; I love my diehard lover in Geoffrey.

And there is no doubt in my mind that they feel strongly, the latter two. But sometimes I wonder what exactly propels them to feel the way they do.

For example, Sonic gets a lot of attention from the local girls while he competes for me. Many of them think that it is gallant of him, for lack of a better word, and enjoy the spectator sport. Others like to crush on him simply because he is taken. I think we all know that type.

I'm not saying that Sonic does not love me. But if I took all of that romantic attention away from this star-player, I wonder if he would be so enticed.

On the other hand, Geoffrey's rivalry with Sonic is thicker than blood. Sonic thinks he is all piss and vinegar, just an ornery old soul, in a skunk body, to boot. I never knew, and I'm sure Sonic never realized, that almost every mission the Freedom Fighters pick up boots the Secret Service out of their rightful place. Of course Geoffrey gets angry; they were assigned to the given mission, they were going to be paid for the given mission, they were going to be honored for the given mission.

Sometimes I feel rather like a prize to be won. If Geoffrey did not have another stallion to race against, I wonder if he would covet a blanket of roses at all.

It doesn't help that my father has to nag on both of their financial positions. I realize that it would not be an evenly matched union, no matter who I chose; Sonic's uncle was a chili dog vendor, for chrissake, and I've heard that the military does not pay well unless you hold a rather lofty position. Always, my father harps on the "princess and the pauper", on my hopelessly romantic, foolishly sentimental heart.

Worst of all, I've heard it so many times I'm starting to fear it for myself. I don't dress fantastically despite my wealth and I don't wear a lot of make-up. But I wonder if I would lose some of the "glow" the boys see if there weren't so many money signs to reflect my gold.

This is ridiculous! Neither of them are after my money! I'm turning into my father!

But what of power? Power corrupts. Even the humblest of men desire it in some small way, and only those of the greatest wills can wield it without being controlled. Sonic does not seem to care for power whatsoever. I am more worried that he would shrug off kingly duties in favor of a good run with old friends, a mission for old times' sake, a feast of chili dogs. But I fear granting Geoffrey with such power; he hungers for any method to take Sonic down a notch. And clearly the status of King trumps Knight.

This all hurts my head so much. The tissue behind my eyes is throbbing and the sensitive areas of my nose burn. Call it allergies if you like, but only if you like to lie.

This erects a new thought- have the boys ever wondered such questions of me? I am ashamed to admit that I have fishtailed a bit in the past few years. Sonic was my childhood friend, Geoffrey was a helping hand. Sonic was my first crush, Geoffrey was my first boyfriend. The list goes on and on, as if they've been competing all their lives!

If I were Sonic, I would question of myself- is she dating me just to keep the Freedom Fighters unified?

If I were Geoffrey, I would ask- is she merely using me as a ploy, using Sonic's jealousy against him to keep him faithful?

I wish I could play devil's advocate, but I'm afraid I don't want to know what they've asked of me.

Having reached adulthood, I know that I must stop twisting my needle into the hearts of both these men that love me. There are women out there waiting to devour them both- Fiona and Amy for Sonic, Hershey and, on rare occasion, Rouge for Geoffrey. If I fritter my time away I might lose them, and then I will have to wonder why I wondered so long.

How does one perform open-heart surgery on oneself? I would ask a surgeon-confidante, but my friends are just as close to the issue as I am. Of course Bunnie prefers that I stay with Sonic, and of course Amy and Fiona prefer that I return affections for Geoffrey. Mirrors are never as good as the real thing, but they'll have to do. After all, our eyes see what we want them to see, no? We take the real world and process it in the twisted hall of mirrors that is our mind.

Sonic is the hero of Knothole. He is the boy that every boy wants to be and every girl wants to date. For lack of a better word, Sonic is cute, the nostalgic buddy that's a barrel of laughs. Sonic's been my friend for the longest time. He knows me better than anyone else, and I know that he'll always have my back.

But Sonic knows that he's popular, knows that he's good-looking. He's cocky and headstrong. He's immature, and often I wonder if I haven't outgrown his fart-joke humor and impregnable love of chili dogs. He doesn't know when it's time to be serious. He's such a great friend to me that I'm not sure if I want him to be anything more.

Geoffrey is the dark horse. What he lacks in popularity he gains in respect, as few (other than Sonic), will ever cross him. He's a man, not a boy. An honest-to-god man with muscles and a deep voice. He has an odd beauty of his own; his flaws distinguish him. He is a serious, dependable person that I can always count on.

Yet, his unpopularity is not unmerited. He can be extremely arrogant, and he's awfully willing to flex his muscles to get his way. He has a violent streak when he feels something he loves, be it a person, place, or pride, is being violated. He is so severe and militaristic that, for stretches of time, I wonder if he has forgotten how to smile (or sleep, for that matter).

Everyone has their faults. Ah! How does one choose? I know both of them too well. I know that Sonic defends his fear and uncertainty in jokes, that Geoffrey veils his shockingly low self-esteem in pomp and struts. I cannot blame these men for traits that they cannot help but have, and similarly I cannot judge between them.

I have a picture from each of them on my nightstand. Foolish though it may seem, I say goodnight to each of them every night. Sonic's wears a cheeky grin and Geoffrey's cocky eyes are half-shaded in a mass of white hair. His fur catches my eye tonight. White face, black stripe, just the opposite of the pattern down his back.

It seems a sign to me; not that I should choose Geoffrey so much as I should weigh the person as a whole. Black-on-white and white-on-black, there is good and evil in every one. Each has his strength and weakness. I must weight the man, for he is far more valuable than the sum of his parts.

I press the photos face-down against the nightstand and flop onto my four-poster bed. I draw the curtains close and my knees in. Ah, my aching head! I guess I won't sleep at all tonight.


End file.
